


Sherlock Holmes: Cadaverous Hills

by Mary_Wake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mary_Wake/pseuds/Mary_Wake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"6 years of nothing can do a lot to a man"<br/>The beautiful rolling hills of Cumbria are stained red with blood but the dead aren't staying dead and it's down to Sherlock and John to figure this case out. Time is ticking as more lives are lost but are they really just deaths or part of something more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A new Case

Dawn crept over the silohettes of the London buildings. Drizzle fell from the dull grey of the usually overcast skies if Britain. The city was sleeping.  
The faint tap of heels on the hard pavements signalled a woman dashing down the streets, her brown hair flying out behind her as she dashed towards Bakers street. Rosy red lips and a matching purse stood out from her gaunt, white face and inky black coat. She whipped around a corner. Slowing down, she reached the dark door of 221b Bakers street. Breathing in heavily, she took the knocker in hand and hit it softly against the door. Once.

From inside, the sound of running. The stairs groaned under the stress of the fast pace that this person was going at. A single thud at the end indicated the person had jumped at least the last three steps. The door swung inwards and there stood the tall figure of Sherlock Holmes. Pale skin, strong cheek bones glowing a ghostly white on the early morning light. His dark, curly hair was messy from him having run his fingers through it countless times as he anticipated a new case.

"Sherlock Holmes." He said softly, his voice smooth like beach stone. He held out his hand and the woman took it. They made eye contact for a moment before Sherlock pulled his hand away. "Straight upstairs." He said, his icy eyes staring down at her as he stepped aside to let her past.  
The woman cautiously walked past him and up the stairs.

Sherlock was wearing a dressing gown, tied tightly around the waist. He had clearly been up all night as his eyes were ringed and droopy. She stared for a moment as Sherlock slowly closed the door before proceeding to turn and look at her again. She furrowed her brow and turned to head up the stairs. The banister creaked as she walked as softly as she could, all fears of why she had come had been overcome by a curiosity of what lay beyond the darkly coloured door of 221b Bakers street.

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"So, what's your name?" A short greying man asked the woman. This was John. John Watson a retired army doctor who now shared a flat with Sherlock.

"Miss Fable but please call me Jess." She replied, her voice cracking as she tried to stay calm. Her sense of urgency had come flooded back and it riled up inside of her.

"So Jess, why are you here?" John asked. He was sat at a desk, his elbow leant on the wooden surface that was littered with paper and in between it all, a laptop. It stood open in front of him and mad his face glow a milky white. Sherlock, however, was sat in a large arm chair, his eyes closed and his hands clasped together like he was praying.

"Well I had no one else to go to-" Jess began but Sherlock cut her off before she could finish.

"So you came here from Cumbria where some incident has happened and you need my help so you got the earliest train you could to come and see me." Sherlock said, his voice racing as his hands tipped down so his fingers were pointing at Jess, his eyes looked her up and down.

"Y-yes." Jess stuttered, her eyes broad in amazement. John rolled his eyes and rubbed his eyebrow with a finger as he watched a smirk grow on Sherlock's face.

"Were they a family member?" Sherlock asked but before Jess could answer, he held up a hand. "No. No! Not a family member, a friend's family member." He said and the smirk grew as Jess nodded back, dumbfounded by how he knew it all.

"Enough Sherlock." John said, his voice laced with irritation at his flatmate's deductions. "Let her explain now." He grumbled and the ex-army doctor grabbed his mug of coffee and took a long swig.

"Go on, please." Sherlock said stubbornly, clearly unhappy at having to sit quiet and listen for once.  
Jess looked between the two before she began her explanation.

"Well me, my friend and her sister were having a hike down by Wast Water when we hear the sound of this kid crying. Being curious, we go towards the sound and find this little boy all alone by the water. He says he's lost so me and my friend help comfort him." Jess explained. Tears were beginning to threaten to fall but she held back for the sake of her mascara. "We only looked away for a moment and when we turned back, she was gone." Jess choked and a tear rolled down her cheek. "We looked everywhere and we couldn't find her." She said and licked her lips to distract herself as she prepared to continue but Sherlock beat her to it.

"You found her last night." He said, his legs quickly bouncing up and down like he was eager enough to run to Cumbria so that he could just get stuck in on the case. John grumbled something under his breath and his eyes glared at Sherlock who only acknowledged him by Glancing at him from the corner if his eye.

"Yes." Jess said, not quite as amazed this time. "We found her, a hole blown right through the front of her head." She trailed off and Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her. He knew what she was going to say. He knew what was coming.

John sat, looking caringly at Jess like she was a hurt lamb while Sherlock stared at her as if she were the last piece of food at a party. 

"She had a hole in the front of her bloody head!" Jess said, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her cheeks like the rain down the window outside. "A huge bloody hole in her head yet there she was, looking me in the eye as real as daylight." Jess said before she flung her hands up to her face and sobbed. John leapt from his chair and pushed past Sherlock so he could comfort the pale woman. Sherlock watched, his eyes gleaming at the prospect of a new case.


	2. Leaving London

Jess, John and Sherlock climb into the back of the taxi. Little packing had been done as Sherlock saw it as boring and pointless. John and Sherlock were squashed up together next to John's bag in which he had packed a few jumpers and a waterproof coat. Hidden amongst the clothes was a loaded handgun, just in case. Jess sat opposite the two, folding her arms neatly across her chest. She didn't talk much but looked out the window. John stared pointlessly put of the window while Sherlock was doing something on his phone. Every taxi was the same as was every bus and train, John and Sherlock opposite Jess. London whizzed by and Sherlock tapped the glass of the window whilst he typed.

"Pack it in!" John snapped causing Sherlock to drop his phone on the cab floor. Sherlock stooped down and scooped his phone up. He sat back up and glared at John before returning to his phone.

"What are you doing anyway?" John asked, his voice still rough.

"None of your business." Sherlock warned like a protective child. John rolled his eyes and looked back at the window, unaware of Jess who had silently watched the whole thing.

Jess coughed nervously but only earned a scowl from Sherlock. She fell back in her chair with a frustrated sigh. The small TV screen beside her crackled and static took over the vacant screen. She stared curiously at it but the two men did nothing. The hissing and fizzing of the static grew louder and Jess slammed her fist on the glass separating them from the cabby. The cabby hesitantly rolled the window down so she could speak.

"Could you turn the TV off?" She asked, her voice edgy. The man looked at her in the rear view mirror confused and pointed to the button showing that it was off.

"It is off. " He said confused and shut the glass again. Jess curled her fingers up and glared out the window to block out the noise.

Now it was Sherlock's turn to stare at the screen. Memories clouded his vision as he thought of last time a taxi screen had done that. He shuddered slightly but leant forward to press his fingers to the glass. It was still cold, signalling it wasn't on although the screen was still streaked with the fuzzy static. He pulled his hand away and all that had changed was now there was a steamy smudge from his finger. Sherlock ground his teeth in confusion only to look out the window and realise they were slowing down at the train station. Sherlock shoved open the door and leapt out, turning up his coat collar and looked over it at the cabby who was smirking back at him. Sherlock tilted his head back so his chin was sticking up slightly. He turned back to Jess and John. The three of them walked towards the platforms. They crossed over a bridge and briskly headed towards the tracks.

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The train stopped at the platform, it's brakes squealing as its wheels ground to a halt on the iron rails. The doors flung open and a swarm of people flooded from the gap that the doors left. John instinctively grabbed for something to hold to stop him being caught in the flow but his hand gripped the back of Sherlock's sleeve. The taller man either didn't notice or didn't mind because he continued to watch all the people exiting the train. Once all the people were off, the three joined the flow of people rushing into the train. John kept a tight grip of Sherlock's sleeve, scared he might get lost or separated. He couldn't lose Sherlock again. They finally found three spare seats with a table in the middle. No one had sat there due to the piles of tickets and rubbish left over the seats and table. John let go of Sherlock and swept a pile of paper Costa cups from the chair. He sat down and leant his elbow on the table to stare out the window. Sherlock sat in the aisle seat beside him while Jess sat opposite him, his bag between their feet.

"So tell me again about Cumbria." Sherlock asked Jess who rolled her eyes.

"Lots of hills and sheep, not many people live around the area where I come from and where it happened." She said for the tenth time that journey. Sherlock's eyes glittered with the prospect of few people and a murder in a rural place. A smile crept across his pale face and Jess narrowed her eyes in frustration.

"What are you so happy about." She asked, her voice cold. She knew the answer; she had heard it ten times already today.

"There's been a murder in a low populated place." Sherlock grinned. John turned around to look at him and kicked his shin with the back if his heel to warn him about his attitude. Sherlock's face screwed up in pain but the smile was gone and he looked down at his hands which he had rested on the table before him. He slowly reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone. He opened up the gallery and began to scroll through his gallery. He clicked on an image of the cabby who had brought them to the train station. He furrowed his brow as he concentrated on working out what was so special about this man. He slowly zoomed in on his cabby number and then his face but nothing seemed so special then a text popped up in his notifications, signified by a small buzz. He clicked on it. It was from a new number. Most of the phone number was blocked but the last four digits.

These digits were:

_1417_

and the message:

_6 years of nothing can do a lot to a man._

Sherlock cursed under his breath and turned his phone off, slamming it on the table in anger. The whole carriage turned to look at him and he shoved his hand through his hair in frustration.

"What is it?" John asked, truly concerned for his friend.

"A text message, from 1417." Sherlock growled and slumped down in his train chair where he remained for the rest of the journey.

 


	3. Cumbria

The cottage was a small 2 bedroomed bed and breakfast. Jess had rented it out from a kind old woman named Mrs Green and her son Jack Green.

"She's clearly-" Sherlock began, about to say something to Mrs Green but John elbowed him hard in the gut to shut him up. Mrs Green looked at the two but didn't say anything. John pushed Sherlock hard so thst he stumbled into th cottage. John turned around, his arms still on Sherlock's back, and smiled at Mrs Green who just raised an eyebrow and left with her son to go home.

Once John had shut the door, Sherlock burst out,  "She's clearly in her early eighties and relies greatly on her son who is about twenty. Her husband died five years ago and she keeps the ring on that cord around her neck." He explained, the speed of his words picking up. "This was the house her and her husband lived in but she's bought a new house because she can't handle the memories but she's too sentimental to sell so she rents it out. Now the son. The son." Sherlock mused thoughtfully. "He cares very much for his mother but wasn't as heart broken as his mother when his father died. He's single becuase he definitely still lives with his mother." Sherlock said and opened his mouth to continue but John had his fist clenched around the door handle, his knuckles white as he glared at him. Sherlock tilted his head but rolled his eyes and John stalked past him to check out the bedrooms.

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Fog curled thickly around the cat as Sherlock drove them through the rolling fells of Cumbria.

"Watch out for the sheep!" John yelled as Sherlock sped over the dips towards a flock of sheep who had been laying on the warm tarmac if the road.

"If they don't move I'm running them over." Sherlock threatened as he refused to slow the land rover down.

"Sherlock!" Jess squealed from the back seat. Her eyes were wide in terror as the sheep slowly raised their sleepy heads. "Stop!" She yelled and leaned forward.

The tires squealed as Sherlock slammed on the brakes. All three of them were flung forward and John had to put his hands against the dashboard to avoid hitting his head.  
John turned to glare at Sherlock who smiled innocently back. John slammed his hand down on the dashboard and pulled his seat belt off. He shoved open the door and got out.

"Where you going?" Sherlock demanded as Jess got out the car as well.

"Somewhere where _you're_ ," he paused "Not driving." John said leaning back into the car to look Sherlock in his turquoise eyes.

"So you're going to walk?" Sherlock asked, staring him in the eyes back.

"If we have to!" John snapped back, pushing his torso back out of the car.  
Jess stood and watched quietly.

"If you hadn't have been such a control freak then this wouldn't have happened!" John continued, clearly sick of Sherlock's attitude so far.

"How was I-" He started but saw Jess raise an eyebrow at him. "Oh." He said and nodded slightly. "I guess you can drive now." He said to Jess and climbed out of the car to join them. The three looked up as another car sped past them.

"Let's go." Jess said and got into the driver's seat. John pulled himself back into the passenger's seat at the front leaving sherlock stood in the rough grass alone.

"Why do I have to sit in the back?" He complained like a 5 year old child.

"Because you were the one who got us into this mess, you're the one wh-" John began but Sherlock cut him off and climbed into the back seat stubbornly. John nodded to Jess and she pulled back out into the road and they set off again - at a much steadier pace this time.

They hadn't got far when a gunshot rang out across the hills. Suddenly the back of the car was thrown upwards with a terrible hissing.  Another gunshot and then the front was thrown up in the same manner and a similar hissing pursued. Jess screamed as she lost control of the car. It swerved onto the grass.

"They've shot the tires out!" John yelled in surprise. Sherlock ground his teeth and before Jess could stop the car, he had leapt from it and was looking around for signs of the shooter. His long, charcoal coat was billowing out behind him. There was hint of another person. No shuffling in the grass, no scared sheep and not even the glint of a barrel.  
Another round of shots and several bullets bounced off the car.  
"SHERLOCK!" John screamed as he ducked behind the metal doors. When he looked back up, Sherlock was still stood there.  
"It's alright John. They don't want to kill us, they just want to get my attention." He said turning to look at him, excitement in his eyes.  
"Well where is he?" John asked as he and Jess climbed out of the car.

The smile fell from Sherlock's face. "I don't know." He admitted and turned back to face the hillside.

"Maybe he killed Sam." Jess said referring to her friend.

"Maybe." Sherlock mused but John could tell that he wasn't properly listening.

"What now?" John questioned, running his hand a long the now porous car door.

Sherlock spun round to face him, his hands clasped together in his familiar thinking position. "What can you tell me about the shooter?"

"They," John began but then furrowed his brow and looked up at Sherlock. "Why are you asking me? You clearly know." John said grumpily. He folded his arms across his chest.

Sherlock pulled his coat collar up and lowered his hands. "I want to see what you know." He smiled, his pale face contrasting from his dark clothes.

"Sherlock, this isn't a game." John growled insistently.

"Oh, but it is." Sherlock smiled and he looked back to where he presumed the shooter had been. "Well at least our shooter thinks it is." He smiled and the three stood there gazing around at the wind swept landscape of the Cumbrian fells.

 


	4. Invisible Shooter

Sherlock was pacing between the open plan living area and kitchen, his shoes tapping on the tiles of the kitchen and sinking into the thick, plush carpet of the living area. Sitting in a large, hideously green armchair that looked out over the large window that took up most of the front wall, John looked between the views of a rocky beach and his pacing friend. John looked down at his phone as it buzzed signaling a message from Jess.

_He's done it again; I'll be there to pick you up in 5 minutes. Jess_

Sherlock stopped his pacing and looked at John expectantly.

"Your invisible shooter has struck again." John announced and Sherlock immediately pulled his thick coat off a chair in the kitchen and swung it on; he then grabbed his scarf and looped it tightly around his neck.

John pushed himself from the deep chair and walked towards the hallway where his coat and shoes were. He pulled on a warm coat and his shoes. By the time he was done, Sherlock was already at the door and as he pushed open the door, Jess had pulled into the drive in a large SUV. she rolled down the window when she got a confused look from John.

"It's my Dad's, my car got shot." She said, the last part clearly being sarcastic. John laughed and pulled open the door of the passenger's seat. he climbed in and beckoned Sherlock to get in the back but Sherlock was staring past the car at something.

"What is it, Sherlock?" John asked curiously but Sherlock walked past the car and towards something unseen by the other two. The tall, pale man reached out his hand at seemingly nothing. "Sherlock?" John called nervously but still got no reply.

"Look at this John." Sherlock said turning back towards them.

"What is it?" John asked as he and Jess climbed out of the car.

"It’s a body that looks like her friend." Sherlock said grinning.

"There's nothing there Sherlock, stop it." Jess said, her voice shaking. John cautiously walked to Sherlock. As he grew closer, he noticed his eyes were lightly glazed.

"Sherlock are you ok?" John asked nervously as he slowly moved closer, extending a hand to grab Sherlock.

"John?" Sherlock asked. "What's wrong?" He said lowering his hand and backing away towards the road.

"Sherlock don't move!" John said nervously as a car sped past, sending Sherlock's coat flying behind him in a frenzy.

Sherlock looked John in the eyes. "John what's wrong?" Sherlock asked, lowering his hand. "What's wrong with me?" He said, his misty eyes portraying his fear.

"I don't know just don't move." John said as he took another step forward but Sherlock moved back instinctively. "I said don't move!" John yelled angrily.

"ITs not me" Sherlock yelled back, terror now filling his normally stoic expression. "Help me John!" He called out as he legs took another step back.

Jess was breathing hard, too scared to move away from the car with the fear of Sherlock taking another step.

"Don't come any closer John!" Sherlock said, holding back tears, as John took another step forward and Sherlock took another step back. One more step to go.

"I’m going to get you out of this!" John cried out but didn't take the step just yet.

"I’m normally the one saving you." Sherlock mumbled to Sherlock, holding the short man’s gaze.

"I know." John said. "But not this time." He said and took one final step. Sherlock shook his head helplessly, tears welling from his ears. "John I thought you were going to help me." He screamed in a fear driven fury as he took a step back, onto the grey of the road. John stared hopelessly as time slowed down and the sound of tires skidding on tarmac echoed in Johns ears.

John ran numbly towards the road, unable to comprehend the sight he feared he would see. As he reached the edge of the verge, he looked around wildly but tears blurred his vision. He'd already lost Sherlock too many times, he couldn't lose him again. Not like this.

John stood frozen, staring at the car that was now sideways, blocking most of the road. Jess walked to him and put a hand on his shoulder but walked past to go talk to the driver who was leaning back in the driver's seat, running his hands through his short hair, eyes wide and fearful. Jess knocked hesitantly on the window before pulling open the passenger side door. They stood talking whilst John finally made his way round the back of the car to find Sherlock. His friend wasn't there but a trickle of blood led off into the verge will fell away into a steep decline down to the beach.

John scurried over the rise to see his friend laying in a crumpled mess of charcoal coat and crimson blood. He half ran, half fell down the grassy slope that slowly transferred to sand. He collapsed to his friend's side.

"Sherlock?" John asked nervously and rolled him on to his back, a gunshot wound shimmered with blood in Sherlock's left Shoulder.

"John?" Sherlock mumbled, forcing his eyes open.

"Oh my God Sherlock." John breathed. Sherlock's head fell back and his eyes closed again as he slipped out of consciousness.

John breathed heavily and looked back up the bank as the sound of sirens rang out. John stared as paramedics ran towards them. John was so shocked that he hadn't even noticed that Sherlock had grabbed his hand just as he fell unconscious. As the people grew closer, John squeezed Sherlock's hand.

Blue lights flashed and lit up the air of that crisp morning in Cumbria. Sirens screamed all around John as he gripped Sherlock's hands. Men shouted words to John but nothing that was said made any sense to John. The metallic smell of blood stung John's nose and the salty scent of the sea mixed with it. Hands pulled at John's shoulders and he was pulled back from Sherlock, his hand slipped from Sherlock's fingers and he was taken away on a stretcher. John was ushered up the rise after Sherlock and into the ambulance that awaited them on the road. He sat beside Sherlock as the paramedics attempted to wake him up.


	5. Gunshot wounds and scars

John stared at Sherlock as he lay in the hospital bed, his fingers twitching at random intervals.

"Come on Sherlock." He mumbled quietly, looking at his best friend with worry.

"Shut up John." Sherlock murmured and slowly turned his head to face him

"Oh my God Sherlock." John said in surprise and gripped the edge of the bed.

Sherlock fumbled at the bandages that were bound tightly around his chest to cover the wound on his shoulder. He began to pull away the stained bandages.

"What are you doing?" John asked nervously.

"No need for these, we better be going." Sherlock explained

John put a heavy hand on Sherlock's chest to hold him down. "Not this time Sherlock." John said softly. "We're not doing all this again." John said and looked him the eyes.

Sherlock fell back against the bed and ran a pale hand through his hair. Just then the door was shoved open and a frantic looking Jess walked in.

"What is it Jess?" John asked, leaping instinctively away from Sherlock, removing his hand from his friend's chest.

"You know how this morning, before all this happened I said the shooter has done it again?" Jess said nervously.

"Just tell us." Sherlock demanded, ignoring her look of surprise at him being awake.

"Well the police found where the person had supposedly been shot but_" Jess began but Sherlock cut her off.

"But there was no body." He smiled. "Oh this shooter is smart." He mused.

"You fit enough to go?" Jess asked Sherlock but John cut in before Sherlock could answer.

"He's not leaving until the doctors say!" John snapped, leaning over Sherlock to get closer to Jess.

"It’s his choice!" Jess growled back.

"But he got shot and don't even know by who." John trailed off. and looked at Sherlock. "You got shot from in front so you would've been able to the shooter. Who shot you?" John asked leaning back off Sherlock.

"I never saw anyone but I believe it as our invisible shooter." Sherlock replied. The three of them looked at each other.

"Ok then." John said, clasping his hands together. "I guess we do have to go." He sighed and stood up. Jess nodded in agreement. Sherlock swung his legs out of the bed, the hospital robe hung loosely from his frame.

"Where are my clothes?" Sherlock asked. Jess and John looked at each other and Jess bit her lip nervously.

"Sherlock do you remember what happened? At all?" John asked nervously.

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock demanded, looking at the two people either side of him.

"Sherlock you got hit by a car, got shot and rolled onto the beach." Jess explained, glancing up at John occasionally. "Sherlock your clothes are ruined and its lucky that you're even alive." Jess choked and John looked down at his hands.

"Oh." Was all Sherlock could manage to mutter.

"They were the only clothes you brought weren't they?" John said in a subtle attempt to lighten the mood.

"Yup." Sherlock mumbled with a small smile.

"You're an idiot." John said and resisted the urge to hug Sherlock, anyway Jess had beat him to it, her brown hair falling over Sherlock's chest and tightly bound bandages.

"I was scared." Jess mumbled into his shoulder.

"Th-thanks." Sherlock mumbled, clearly confused.

"Well, let’s go then." John said awkwardly.

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"I've never really acknowledged just how small you are until now." Sherlock laughed as he squeezed into some of John's spare clothes. The shirt was pulled tight over his chest and the sleeves were too short so he had them rolled up just below the elbow. He had managed to borrow a coat from Jack Green but the sleeves on his coat were no better than if he were wearing John's but Jess had elbowed him in the gut when he attempted to complain. The pants he had also borrowed from Jack, luckily, were well fitting.

"You don't look half bad." Jess laughed, her cheeks red from holding back the laughter from Sherlock trying on John's trousers.

"Shut up." Sherlock said with a true smile.

"Time to solve a murder." John said as he pulled his coat back on.

"Well let’s go then." Sherlock agreed and the three headed out towards the car. This time, John made sure Sherlock got in first, careful that they didn't have a repeat of yesterday.

The car slowly pulled out of the drive and Jess gripped the wheel tighter as they passed a stain of blood on the road. As they left the shore behind and climbed the curling tracks back into the fells so that they could reach the small village where the murder happened, rain began to slowly fall from the overcast sky. Sherlock gazed out of the window, deep in his mind palace. He didn't talk much and only really moved to occasionally rub at his bandages.

The car rocked and bumped over the unmaintained roads that slipped through the fells like scars running along the back of the fells that filled Cumbria. John sighed quietly and the car dipped into a steady descent down a road that turned sharply over a bridge at the bottom. His stomach jerked as they approached the metal railings of the side of the bridge but Jess easily swerved the car round the sharp corner and they continued along the desolate road. Again the road dipped but this time it slipped onto what John presumed was a main road. It was busy compared to the other roads but nothing like London.

John slowly closed his eyes and his mind wandered back to London, to Bakers street. He wondered what him and Sherlock would be doing if they hadn't taken this case.

"You're both quiet." Jess said as cheerfully as she could but she knew that both men were deep in thought.

"Just thinking." John sighed, lifting his head to watch a pheasant fly in front of the car.

Down a hill. Past a castle. Another hill. Bridges, corners, tunnels of trees. Past a garage. Up a sharp hill off the main road. Speed bumps and a sign then John narrowed his eyes as they passed a person walking their dog. They seemed so calm. They seemed to be oblivious to the apparent murder.

As they passed, the dog pulled towards the car and from there, the whole mystery of the murder changed.


	6. Memoris come back to bite

"Jess is that you?" The young woman asked, reeling in her dog.

"Lily?" Jess asked. "Lily Gibson?" Jess said, her voice rising excitedly. She was stood in front of the car now, talking to the woman, Lily.

"Yup!" Lily exclaimed, relaxing the hold on her dog.

"Sorry to interrupt this truly touching reunion but do you happen to have any pain killers with you?" Sherlock asked, walking from the side of the car. His face was screwed up slightly and he clutched his left shoulder. He glanced down at the dog that was pulling towards him.

"Jasper, no. Down boy." Lily said, addressing her dog. "I do back at home." She added and looked back up at Sherlock who was staring at her dog, looking lost and hurt. "Are you alright?" She asked him cautiously. She looked up at Jess. "Is he scared of dogs?" She asked.

"Don't know, ask him." She said pointing to John who had got out the car now too.

"No, he loves dogs..." John replied but trailed off as he glanced down at Jasper. "Oh god." He said.

Sherlock blinked slowly, his world spinning. Before him stood a grinning Irish setter, it's long red fur bouncing around as it moved about excitedly.

"R-Redbeard?" Sherlock choked, reeling backwards, resulting in John having to swiftly move beside him to prevent him from falling.

"What's wrong?" Jess and Lily asked, the worried voices speaking in unison.

"Was it something I said?" Lily asked worriedly.

"No, it's not you. It's Jasper. Sherlock had a dog like him and well..." John explained, glancing between the dog and his best friend.

Lily pulled Jasper away from Sherlock who straitened up and coughed awkwardly.

"Sorry about that." Sherlock said, looking Lily in her brown eyes.

She wasn't much taller than John and her pale blonde hair fell over her shoulders. She had pale skin and clearly was not wearing makeup. Her clothes were worn and consisted of jeans, what seemed to be a plain t-shirt and a thin fleece. She wasn't particularly that well-groomed compared to her dog but something about her seemed different.

Sherlock extended a hand. "The name is Sherlock Holmes. This is my friend and colleague John Watson and if course your own friend Jess Fable." He said, his teal eyes reflecting the gaudy sunlight. John narrowed his eyes at him curiously but said nothing.

"Lily Gibson and this is Jasper. " She said brightly but still wary of how he had reacted to her dog.

"So..." John said awkwardly. "Painkillers " He reminded the two feeling even more awkward than when they investigated Irene Adler's case but that's a different story.

"Ah yes, sorry." Lily said and headed towards the road to cross it. "This way." She said.

Sherlock seemed to follow numbly.

_'The dog must really remind him of Redbeard'_ John thought glancing at Jasper who was trotting happily beside his owner. _'He's hardly told me anything about him to be honest'_

"I guess I'll bring the car then." Jess shouted at no one in particular as she climbed back into the car and pulled it up the dirt track that served as a drive to the farm where Lily lived.

Sherlock had his hands held behind his back as he gazed at Lily.

_Worn jeans. Ripped knees - not fashion - plays with dog on floor a lot. Old jacket. Not sentiment, its fraying too much to be cared for. Comfy? Only Jacket? Simple clothing. Practical._

 Sherlock though, deducing what he could but something about her confused him.

_But why is she just letting us into her house?_

Jess drove up slowly behind him and something clicked.

_Friends._

They reached the door and Lily pulled it open, unclipping Jasper's lead so that he could go inside. Sherlock watched the Irish setter bounce around happily, diving into a wicker box and producing a rope that he proceeded to trot triumphantly around the kitchen with. Sherlock tried to get his mind off the dog and Lily by studying what he could see.

They had come through into a small office or porch. To the left there had been a hefty black door and the right was a much nicer looking wooden door leading into the flat where Lily clearly lived. Once inside, it was clear that Lily often had a lot on her mind. Empty mugs were piled beside the sink that looked out of a window but nothing much could be seen through the window due to that being where the neighbors parked their cars.

The floor was wooden floorboards, so smooth Jasper's paws occasionally slid from beneath him. The hard floor changed to plush carpet where the living room started, similar to the cottage where he and John had been staying. The living room consisted of a sofa and a coffee table. Both were littered with paper and files that Sherlock couldn't see well enough to know what they were. Occasionally among the piles of paper a mug could been or even the odd dog toy that Jasper had left lying around.

Underneath the open wooden stairs was a deep dog bed surrounded by toys and odd things that Jasper had collected. Sherlock smiled sadly to himself but just then Lily thrust a box a tablets into Sherlock's hands.

Sherlock sucked his lips over his teeth and nodded a silent thanks. he released his lips and began to open the box but John snatched them from his hands.

"Hey!" Sherlock began to protest but John looked at him sternly.

"I don't trust you." John said earning a curious look from both Lily and the newly arrived Jess.

Sherlock coughed awkwardly and John quickly took out one tablet and handed it to Sherlock who was subconsciously rubbing his wound.

"Don't do that." Jess warned and Jess sighed. She moved over to the couch and picked up all the paper on it and dumped them on the table. She invited the other three over to sit, sitting herself on the floor.

The three came over and sat down. Sherlock sat on the left, Jess on the right and John in the middle. Sherlock picked at his hidden bandages and watched Jasper walk over to lie next his owner.

"Ok, why are you here? No lies. I know when people are lying." She asked, warning them with her stern sapphire gaze.

"The whole story." John said looking at his friend. "All of us will tell our stories. We deserve to know it all." He added.

"I suppose you do." Sherlock sighed and began his story.


	7. Seeking the Truth

The water had been moving sluggishly on the surface, tugging gently at the willow branches that danced teasingly just above the water. However, it was extremely strong beneath the gentle flow that it presented. It was strong. Strong enough to pull a man's feet from beneath him. That's what it did. Well. It actually dragged a young boy into its dark, swirling, bitter depths.

With the cold stealing the breath from my small, frail body, a flailed my happens in a hopeless attempt at pulling my head above my wet grave. Leaves, twigs and all manner of river waste caught in my hair and silt tinted river water flooded my open mouth.

I remember trying to open my eyes, the water stinging them, clouding my vision and forcing me to close them again. Monsters of the deep clawed at me, trying to catch me in their long, cruel, unforgiving hands.

I tried to scream for help but not such call left my mouth. Every part of my body was being scratched a tore apart like dead leaves. I curled up and balled my little fists up when the water flipped me over and over. I had been under for around thirty seconds but it felt like an eternity but a new set of powerful teeth grabbed the collar of my jumper.

I tried to struggle free, imagining all kinds of terrible water creatures that appeared in the books that Daddy read me at bedtime.

Before long I had given up and fell limp in the jaws of the beast, my breath escaping slowly from my lips bit just as I began to loose a grip on my short loved life, cold air stung my back and long, curly hair fell over my face. Long, wet fur tickled my goose-fleshed arms.

"R-redbeard?" I stutter, my bottom jaw chattering against my top. He let's go of my soaking jump and lie wet and shivering on the bank. My faithful Irish setter licks my face lovingly and I reach up an arm to stroke him.

Soon the cold truly set in and closed my eyes, falling asleep on the river bank. 

String arms lifted me up and carried me back home, carefully settling me beside the warm fire. The worried eyes if my brother gaze down at me as he gently strokes my hair.

"What have you done this time little pirate?" Mycroft muttered softly.

I curled up in a ball. "Where's my first mate?" I ask, referring to Redbeard.

Mycroft stepped aside to reveal a lump of wet, red fur curled up on the rug before the fire, the dancing flames lighting up his fur.

"Is he okay?" I ask weakly, my whole body shaking.

"Yes, Sherlock." Mycroft smiled.  "Now sleep before Mummy and Daddy come and see that you're still awake." He smiled, giving my hair bone last ruffle before leaving.

It was a few years later when I was about ten years old that Mycroft took me to my first party. It was a party with some more boys his age and I only obliged to go if Redbeard could come. Of course Mycroft agreed. He loves me like that. 

At the party me and Redbeard just sat on sofa in a quiet corner. I ran my fingers through his soft, red fur while watching the older boys get drunk and rowdy. I was scared but I had Redbeard so everything was okay.

I closed my eyes and imagined me and Redbeard put on another voyage upon the constellation. That was what we named our pirate ship. I loved space and all the stars and the Solar system and everything. It's so complex and interesting. It's the one thing that I do understand.  Most things the teachers tell me in don't listen to because I don't understand. Well I don't think i do.

As my mind wandered far away on a extrovert mission to steal back the gold jewels of Saturn a strong hand grasped my shoulder.  My eyes fling open and look up to see one of the people at my party.

Not my brother.

He was clearly drunk. The reek of alcohol hung on his breath and his whole body swayed as he leaned against me. His eyes stared down into mine. My hand grabbed hold of Redbeard who looked up at the man, his lip curled back slightly in a warning but the man waved his hand and turned back to me, pulling me up by my slim shoulders.

He held me tight, swaying viciously. Just when the worst scenarios were running through my mind, Mycroft drunkenly walked over.

"Put him down." My brother slurred. When the man didn't do as Mycroft had asked, he swung a punch and struck him square on the jaw. The man dropped me and  I crumpled to the ground in ball if fear.

More people joined in and large feet stomped close to me. I saw a gap and tried to crawl free but someone kicked me hard in the ribs, sending me sprawling to the ground, clutching my side.

Seeing my pain, Redbeard leaped into the thick of the tussle and latched his teeth onto the closest man to him.  
He tore at the man's arm and the others stepped back, watching as thus man smacked my dog, trying to shake him off. It was only the wail of sirens and flashing of blue lights that bring my dog off the hunt. He slunk fearfully over to me, shoving his nose to my cheek. I think he knew what was coming.

I was led in bed that night when Mycroft, majorly sobered up, came to my bedside and knealt down.

"Where's Redbeard?" I ask and he shakes his head.  "Mycroft, where's my do" I ask again, my bottom lip quivering and years threatening to fall. "Where's my friend?" I whimper.

"Sherlock, do you know what they do to dogs who attack people?" He asks, not looking me in the eye.

"It wasn't his fault." I shout at him. "It was all your fault!" I say sitting up and punching him in the stomach. He winces but keeps a stoic expression.

"This is why it's a disadvantage to care, Sherlock." He says calmly. "You're smarter than you think Sherlock." He continues.

With Redbeard gone, that meant no more pirates. Pirates were stupid now. Just a pathetic child play thing. Space was rubbish and not worth remembering. It held bitter memories and was no longer important to me. Friends weren't worth the pain.

Mycroft stopped at my bedroom door, lingering for a moment. Before leaving he spoke one last thing to me. On the night I learnt that they put my dog down, my brother told me the thing that started the drugs. That started the obsessive crime solving.  I wanted to see Redbeard again but Mycroft ' s words always stuck in my mind.

"Alone is what we have, Sherlock. Alone protects us."


End file.
